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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410259">oh no there's only one bed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/smudgedfreckles/pseuds/smudgedfreckles'>smudgedfreckles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Only One Bed, oh my god they were roommates, stupid fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:49:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,123</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410259</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/smudgedfreckles/pseuds/smudgedfreckles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>pat and tk share a room on a trip and theres only one bed oh no</p><p>its not like either of them have a big fat crush or anything</p><p>its fine</p><p>also this is a fantasy roster bc im butthurt that we traded simmonds ok i miss him </p><p>inspired by @/slowestdive entire account on twitter this is for Them</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>85</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>oh no there's only one bed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the fuck do you mean there’s only one bed? Can’t we get another room?”<br/>
“No TK, we can’t,” AV says with a sigh. It’s been a long flight to LA, and honestly, Pat and TK sharing a room is the least of his worries. The Kings as a team aren’t too tough, but it’s Hart’s first away game in a while and one that he’d like them to win as a confidence boost. Back-to-back losses in OT home weren’t fun for either of the goalies. “There’s supposed to be a pull-out couch, so you two can fight over that. Team breakfast is at 8. Get some sleep.”</p><p>TK and Pat grumble as they drag their bags into the room. There is, in fact, only one bed. The boys silently take turns changing out of their stuffy suits in the equally tiny bathroom. TK verbally abuses his Xbox until it connects with the TV while Pat offers entirely useless advice from the couch. Neither of them has addressed the bed problem. Once the game is connected, Simmonds, Raffl and Hayes wander in, enticed by the sounds of Call of Duty. Simmonds and Raffl sit on the bed, providing useful commentary like “SHOOT” and “are you fucking blind theres a GUY-ohmy god you’re dead again”, while Hayes and TK share the couch. Pat sits on the floor, just in front of TK, trying his best not to die while also ignoring everything that comes out of the mouths of the two on the bed. </p><p>“FUCK I’m dead. Who wants it,” Pat asks, looking back around at the rest. TK grabs the controller to start a new game, and Pat just. Sits for a minute. He remembers the first time he was in a room, on the road with all the guys and TK just sort of adopted him as ‘his guy’. They went out to eat together, caused general chaos together, and were able to become close friends. At the time, he really admired this kind of little dude’s overwhelming confidence and big personality, and once again, in the not-quiet of the room, he’s thankful to have him as a friend. He scoots back a little to lean his back on TK’s leg. “PAT I swear to god if you fucking mess up my killstreak-” TK shouts, but he’s smiling. There’s a comfort in this lean, the weight of someone’s body on your own. Pat’s cheeks flush and he rushes to correct himself in his mind–nothing romantic of course they’re just friends and it’s not like he’s had a big fat stupid crush on this stupid little angry man since he was drafted or anything he’s not gay (okay maybe he’s a little bit gay he decides, remembering the one guy at that party a while ago) this is a normal guy thing (which it is but he is overthinking it) and– “Pat. You want another go?” Hayes asks above him. “Nah, I’m cool. Pass it up to Wayne though he’s been talking too much shit I wanna see him at this,” Pat says with a grin. And the night goes on until Giroux knocks on the door saying that everyone should probably be in bed. “Fine, dad,” TK says rolling his eyes. Raffl, Simmonds, and Haysey file out, leaving just Pat and TK and the Xbox. The bed has still not been discussed.</p><p>So they brush their teeth, pull on pajamas, and finally, Pat sighs and says “You brought the Xbox, you take the bed. I can take the couch.” “You sure, Pat?” TK asks, “You’re bigger than I am it’s probably more comfortable for you on the bed.” “No, it’s fine,” Pat responds. </p><p>Tragically, neither of the two had checked to see if the couch was, in fact, a pull out couch. After taking the pillows off and putting them back on no less than four times, the discovery was made that this couch was just a normal couch. A small, kind of itchy, couch. Pat sighed, lay down and stared at the ceiling. “Throw me a pillow? And maybe a blanket?” He asked TK in defeat. Instantly Pat was whacked in the face with a pillow and yet another flimsy blanket. “I’m really sorry about this, man,” TK said with a sympathetic tone, “At least it’s only one night?” “Yeah, you’re right. Night, bud,” Pat responded. “Night, Pat.”</p><p>In the dark, kind of dank silence of the room, Pat’s mind wouldn’t stop drifting across the carpet to TK in bed. He’d never really considered whether he was into guys or not. When he was four, he remembers telling his parents he wanted to marry his best friend Adam. They just smiled and laughed and said “Whatever you want, honey”. Then in high school, he remembers seeing boys and thinking they were attractive, but never really doing anything about it. He’s sure he still likes girls–that hasn’t been anything he’s questioned. But maybe there was more to it. He recalls (again, as he does many, many nights) That One Party. He had just moved into his apartment in Philly and an old friend of his invited him to what he called a “large house party”, which turned out to be a huge party in someone’s apartment near Cherry Street Pier. He remembers seeing a guy there, and talking to him, dancing, and drinking, enough that he was less nervous but not drunk enough to forget every single detail of sudden hands around his hips and kisses on his neck and an upstairs bedroom and a dazed Uber drive home and the instant regret of never asking his name. His heart flutters just at the thought. He definitely, like the entirety of the NHL and their rampant toxic masculinity, had an aversion to the word “gay” but now that he thinks about it, hockey is pretty gay. Sweaty men dragging each other to the ground on the ice, showers, et cetera. Maybe… Bi? Pat tries it out in his head: I’m Nolan Patrick, and I’m Bi. Okay, not so bad. Scary, but not so bad. He tries it out loud, whispers it. “Bi.” </p><p>“You say somethin’?” TK mumbles.<br/>
“Oh-uh no, no I didn’t. Probably the AC making noise,” Pat rushes to respond.</p><p>Shit, that was close, Pat thinks. Close…he would like to be close to someone right now. The AC is cold, and the scratchy blanket TK gave him is terrible. He didn’t notice how cold he was earlier given his train of thought but now he is cold. And there is a king sized bed next to him with plenty of room for two people. It wouldn’t even be weird, he convinces himself. They’d be on opposite sides of the bed and he would be warm and not cramped on this nasty couch. And it would be nice to be close to someone. </p><p>“Hey TK,” Pat whispers, trying to remain calm.<br/>
“Whadyahwan,” TK mumbles sleepily.<br/>
“I’m cold.”<br/>
“Mmphb,” is TK’s only response.<br/>
“Can–can I share the bed? I’ll stay on my side,” Pat asks, trying to make his voice not shake.<br/>
“Sure.”<br/>
Pat can barely believe it and he is suddenly very glad it is dark outside so TK can’t see the flush on his cheeks. He’s half-asleep anyway, which is why Pat asks again:<br/>
“Are you sure? I don’t wanna invade but I’ll stay on my side but also I’m very cold and–”<br/>
“Just get in the bed, Patty,” TK grunts.</p><p>Pat does what he’s told. As gently as possible, he slides into bed, on his side, as far away from TK as possible. He does not want to let his sudden revelation of sexuality get in the way of a good nights’ sleep. Or their friendship which he so desperately values. So he lies awake, warm this time, opposite TK. </p><p>TK rolls over, facing Pat’s back. Pat is perfectly still. TK scoots himself towards Pat, and lazily flops his arm over his side. For a moment, Pat forgets how to breathe.</p><p>“TK,” Pat whispers, “What are you doing.”<br/>
“Said you were cold,” TK responds, snuggling closer.</p><p>Pat decides not to argue and simply exist in this momentary blessing of spooning with his (now he feels like he’s allowed to say it) Big Fat Stupid Crush, Travis Konecny. He’s asleep in seconds.</p><p>TK wakes up first, gently detangling himself from Pat to go brush his teeth. He can’t believe it. Ever since Pat joined the team and TK decided to become friends with him, he’s been working up to the right moment to tell him that maybe they should try to have more of a friendship, and fucking PAT gets the first move points for asking to share a bed with him. Unbelievable. He’s got to figure out a way to say he made the first move. He will not lose this game against himself (where the opposing team is also himself, the coach is himself and the announcers are also himself).</p><p>Pat finally wakes up to some god awful singing of TK in the shower and instantly panics. TK? not in the bed. Pat? in the bed. His socks? Off. He knows TK never sleeps with socks. “Shit.” He mumbles to himself. That was definitely, positively, gay. And before he can panic more, TK strolls out of the shower looking annoyingly smug, a towel loosely hung around his waist.</p><p>“Goodmorning sunshine, I thought you would never get up. Breakfast’s in half an hour.”<br/>
Pat is staring. He collects himself though, to ask “Did, uh, did you sleep well?” He can’t tell if TK remembers what happened last night-he seemed mostly asleep, and since Pat was the last to wake up, he has no idea whether they had, uh, un-cuddled by morning.<br/>
“I did, thank you,” TK says with a smug grin. In the shower, he went over twelve different ways to deliver this line to make Pat blush. This one, he thinks, is the winner: “kinda feels like a jetpack on you ‘cause you’re taller, but I like it.” Pat resembles a tomato. Bingo. TK grabs his clothes and walks back into the bathroom to change, grinning to himself. Pat buries his face in the pillow. As soon as TK is out of the bathroom Pat rushes in and locks the door behind himself. </p><p>He can’t believe it. He slept in the same bed with Travis Konecny, was the little spoon, and now fucking TK is gloating about it. He considers his options. 1: die of embarrassment, 2: die of shame because how the fuck is he the little spoon when he’s four inches taller, or 3: take a shower because he’s going to be late for breakfast. He goes with 3. He steps out of the shower, hot (because it’s the shower Pat get your mind out of the gutter you have a fucking game to play Jesus christ), and wraps himself in a towel. Opens the door to just let out some steam, he decides, definitely not because he notices TK left his watch in here and might just want to come get it and– “Left my watch,” TK says as he enters, taking his watch off the counter and grazing the small of Pat’s back with his other hand. In the mirror, after TK has gone, Pat smiles to himself. This is kind of ok. </p><p>He gets dressed, walks back out of the bathroom, and finds TK waiting for him at the door. TK looks Pat up and down. He always appreciates how Pat’s looked, but takes a moment to see him for himself. Taller than him, stupid sparkly eyes, and a kind looking face that squints when he smiles big. TK grins. “Hair looks stupid,” he says, reaching up to fix it, up on his toes so he’s face-to-face with him, almost touching, challenging him with his stare. Pat licks his lips. They’re so close. Staring through each other. TK’s hand falls of Pat’s hair, onto his shoulder to steady himself as he leans in, planting a small kiss on his lips. Pat is frozen as TK tilts his head and looks at him expectantly, and then Pat circles his arms around his waist and pulls him back in. </p><p>“Oh my god are you KIDDING I was TWO HOURS OFF” Simmonds groans as he startles the two apart.<br/>
“I know TK well, bud,” Hayes says with a grin, laughing at the two, beet red in the doorway. </p><p>TK smiles and starts to laugh, and Pat can’t resist laughing along with him. The happiest they’ve ever been, they both think, as they join their team down the hallway of the hotel to breakfast. They’ll both be happier though with drinks on Simmonds tonight.</p>
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